While youre staying at mums, my sister is coming over, says Stephen, pulling my suitcase together.
You cant be serious! Its Tuesday, Lauren has school!
Your mother will pick her up after lessons, Ive already arranged it.
Arranged? Without me? Stephen, whats happening?
Natalie stands in the bedroom watching Stephen methodically fold her clothes into an old travel suitcase. He pulls sweaters, shirts, jeans from the wardrobe without looking at her. His movements are crisp, rehearsed, as if hes practised this moment.
Nothings happening, he replies calmly. Irene is arriving for a week; she needs a separate room. You know she cant stand noise, and Lauren has been blaring music from dawn till dusk.
What does Lauren have to do with it? Irene could stay in a hotel! Or crash on the couch!
Stephen finally meets her gaze. In his eyes Natalie sees something shes never noticed before: coldness, indifference.
On the couch? My sister in a hotel? Natalie, are you hearing yourself? This is my house, by the way.
Our house, she whispers.
Mine, he cuts her off. Bought with my money. I decide who lives here.
Natalie feels her throat tighten. Twentythree years of marriage. Twentythree years she has run this home, raised their daughter, cooked, cleaned, waited for him after work. And now hes packing her belongings as if she were a temporary tenant.
How long? she asks, fighting a tremor in her voice. How long do I have to stay with mum?
A week, maybe two. Irene hasnt decided yet. It depends on how things go.
What things? Shes on holiday!
Stephen slams the suitcase shut and clicks the locks.
Not your business. Pack up, Ill drive you out in an hour.
He leaves the room, leaving Natalie alone in the bedroom. She sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the battered suitcasethe very one they used on their wedding holiday. Back then it was new, shiny, packed with her dresses and his shirts. Now its being used to usher her out of her own home.
Her mother meets her at the door with a sour expression.
Well, look who finally showed up.
Mum, please, Natalie says, dragging the suitcase into the flat.
How could I not? I warned you about him. I warned you when you got married, when you bought the house in his name. Listen to your mother!
Margaret Jones, seventytwo, is a woman of strict rules and even stricter judgments. She still retains a clear mind and a firm character that sometimes seem excessive to Natalie.
Mum, Ill just stay the night. It wont be long.
Oh, just a night. Ive heard that one before. First a week, then a month, and before you know it youre filing for divorce. Your sisters coming, you know which one the one who last visited five years ago?
Natalie doesnt answer. She retreats to her old bedroom, now used by Margaret as a wardrobe and magazine store. The narrow single bed remains, the one she fell asleep in as a teenager.
Have a cup of tea, Margaret softens. You look pale. Didnt you have breakfast?
Im not hungry.
Ten minutes later Natalie is sipping strong tea with a scone at the kitchen table. Margaret sits opposite, studying her.
Somethings happened, she says. He wouldnt just throw you out.
He didnt throw me out, he just asked to stay with you.
Natalie, Im seventytwo, but Im not losing my mind. Men dont evict wives without a reason. Its either an affair or money trouble.
He doesnt have another.
How do you know? You sit at home all day. He works from morning till night. Did you check his phone?
Mum!
What, youre naive. Always have been, always will be.
Natalie finishes her tea and stands.
I need to pick up Lauren. She gets out at three.
Stephen promised to collect her.
Ill get her myself.
Lauren, fifteen, is a carbon copy of Natalie at that age chestnut hair, grey eyes, the same stubborn set to her mouth. She leaves school with friends, laughing, but when she sees her mother, her face drops.
Mum? Wheres Dad? He was supposed to pick me up.
Ive decided. Natalie wraps an arm around her. Lets go and talk.
They walk through an autumn park while Natalie explains that theyll have to stay with Margaret, that Aunt Irene is arriving, that its only temporary.
He kicked you out, Lauren says flatly.
No, its just
Mum, Im fifteen, not five. I get it. Hes kicked you out of the house, and me too.
Lauren, dont say that.
Lauren turns to her mother, eyes fierce.
How should I say it? The truth? Ive noticed hes been acting strange for a month. Hides his phone, disappears in the evenings. Cant you see?
Where did you
Im not blind or deaf. Two nights ago I heard him talking in the bathroom for an hour, laughing like hed caught us sleeping.
Natalie freezes, her legs feeling like jelly.
What was he laughing about?
I didnt catch the words, just the tone. He was chuckling. When was the last time you heard your dad laugh like that?
Natalie cant remember.
In Margarets flat they find the living room already set up with two beds and dinner on the table.
I love borscht, potatoes and meatballs, Margaret declares cheerfully. After we eat, Ill put on a film about love.
Ill stay in my room, Lauren says, dropping her backpack. I have homework.
Homework on a holiday? You should be relaxing!
Lauren slips away to the back room, leaving Natalie alone with Margaret.
She gets it, Margaret whispers. You cant hide the truth from a smart girl.
They eat in silence. The stew is thick, the potatoes fluffy, the meatballs juicy just the way Margaret makes them. Natalie forces down each bite.
Call him, Margaret abruptly says. Ask how hes doing, mention the sister. Let him know you havent given up.
I dont want to call.
You must. You cant let a man run unchecked.
Natalie doesnt call that night, nor the next. She busies herself with chores, helps Margaret, picks Lauren up from school. Life seems frozen, hanging in anticipation.
On the third day her friend Olivia rings.
Nat, where have you vanished to? Ive called a hundred times!
Sorry, my phone was on silent.
Listen, is it true Stephens seeing some other woman?
Natalie freezes.
What? Where did you
Olivia saw them at the new restaurant on Victoria Street. She said they were sitting together, he was kissing her hand. She thought it might be his sister, but said the woman looked about thirty, not his sister.
Which restaurant?
The pricey one on Victoria. Wed never set foot there.
Natalie hangs up, hands shaking. Its true. Margaret was right, Lauren was right. He has another.
Why are you so pale? Margaret asks as she walks into the kitchen.
Mum, can I go back home? I need to collect something.
Margaret looks at her for a long moment.
Go. Just dont stir up trouble. First find out whats really happening.
Natalie rides a bus, trying to calm herself. Maybe its a mistake, maybe Olivia got it wrong, but deep down she knows the truth.
A sleek foreign car waits by the entrance of her block. Natalie climbs the stairs, fumbles with her keys, her hand trembling as she inserts them into the lock.
Inside the flat, the air smells of expensive perfume shes never worn. Laughter drifts from the lounge, a womans voice.
She slips off her shoes and walks down the hallway. The lounge door is ajar.
On the sofa sits a young woman, blonde hair cascading, wearing a white robe and barefoot. Glasses of wine and a platter of fruit sit on the table. Stephen is beside her, stroking her hand, whispering.
You promised she wouldnt be back for a week, a soft voice says.
Shes at mums, Stephen replies.
And the daughter?
Shes there too. Dont worry, love. Itll be just us.
Natalie stands frozen, the word traitor echoing in her head.
When will you tell her? the woman asks.
Soon. First we need the paperwork for the house so she cant claim anything.
Youre clever, the woman kisses Stephens cheek.
Natalie turns and rushes for the exit. She needs to get out before they see her. The keys clink loudly as she puts her shoes back on. Footsteps echo from the lounge.
Natalie? Stephens voice sounds surprised.
She doesnt look back. She throws the door open and bolts down the stairs, dodging a shout from Stephen, then sprinting out onto the street. Passersby glance her way, but she pays them no mind.
She returns home only at night. Margaret meets her at the door, worry etched on her face.
What happened?
Natalie passes by, strips off her coat, collapses onto the bed. Lauren peeks in, but Margaret waves her away.
An hour later theres a knock. Margaret opens the door and almost slams it shut.
You mustnt come in!
Margaret, I need to speak to Natalie, Stephens voice is tense.
She doesnt want to talk to you.
Ill ask myself.
He pushes his way into the flat despite Margarets protests. Natalie lies on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Natalie, lets talk, Stephen sits on the edge of the bed.
Leave.
Its not what you think.
Really? she sits, meeting his eyes. Explain, Stephen.
Irene shes my work assistant. Shes here to help with paperwork.
In a white robe, barefoot, with wine?
He stays silent.
I heard everything, Natalie says. About the papers, about you trying to keep me from a share. Do you think Im a fool?
Nat
Twentythree years, Stephen. Twentythree years Ive been your wife, raised your daughter, kept the house. And you treat me like a guest you can throw out for a lover?
She isnt a lover!
Then who?
Stephen stands, pacing.
Fine, its true. I met Rita six months ago at the office. We got together. I didnt plan it, it just happened.
Just happened. Twentythree years didnt just happen, and now youre suddenly pulling a fast one.
You never asked about my work, my life. You just came home, ate, went to bed.
Exactly! You never tried. Rita she listens, she understands.
Shes young and pretty, thats all, Margaret interjects from the doorway. And you, Stephen, are just a common bloke. Sorry, but thats the truth.
Margaret, this isnt your business!
How can it not be? Shes my daughter!
And my wife! I have the right to decide who lives with me!
You do, Natalie says calmly. Just not in my house.
Stephen smirks.
In your house? Im the registered owner.
We bought it together. Its joint property.
Prove it. Do you have the money for a solicitor? Time for courts?
Natalie says nothing. She has no money; shes been out of work for ten years, caring for the home and Lauren.
Thats why Im leaving, Stephen says, heading for the door. Stop playing the victim. This is on you.
The door slams. Natalie sits on the bed, staring into nothing. Margaret wraps an arm around her.
Dont cry, love. Hes not worth it.
Natalies tears have run dry; only a numb emptiness remains.
The next days hover in a strange limbo. She picks Lauren up from school, helps Margaret cook, tries to read. Her thoughts keep circling one question: what now?
You need a solicitor, Olivia says when they meet at a cafe.
How will I pay?
Ill lend you what I can. You deserve half the house.
Its in his name.
Doesnt matter. You were married when you bought it; its joint.
He says I cant afford a lawyer.
You have a right. A good solicitor will prove it.
Natalie wants to believe, but years with Stephen have taught her not to argue, not to demand. He always decided where they lived, how they spent money, where they vacationed.
Mum, Im fed up, Lauren says one evening. I want to go back home.
We cant,
Why? This is our house! Why are we living here with that that woman and dad?
Because Dad decided.
And you? Did you decide too?
Natalie looks at her daughter, fifteen and wiser than many adults.
I dont know what to do.
Then Ill say this: we have to go there and kick her out. This is our house, mums, my house. He just handed it to some stranger!
Mom
No, Mum! I wont stay silent! Youve spent years putting up with his shouting over undercooked soup, forgetting birthdays, coming home drunk at three in the morning. Youve endured it all. And this is the result!
How do you know all this?
Im not deaf, Mum. I heard you crying in the kitchen, thinking I was asleep.
Natalie embraces her daughter, truly hugging her for the first time in days.
Im sorry, love.
No apologies. We need to act.
The next morning Natalie applies makeup for the first time in a week, puts on her best coat and heels. Margaret nods approvingly.
Much better. Where are you off to?
To a solicitor.
Olivia gives her the address of a local solicitor, Marina Patel. Marina listens carefully to the whole story in her modest office.
I see, she notes, writing. This is a classic case. He thinks owning the title gives him full control, but marriage assets are shared.
I have no money for court, Natalie says.
First consultation is free. Well file a claim, and if we win, hell cover the costs.
Do you think well win?
I do. The house was bought during the marriage, you have a minor child. The court will likely side with you.
Natalie leaves Marinas office feeling a lightness she hasnt felt in months.
But when she returns to Margarets flat, hope shatters. Lauren stands at the doorway, tears streaming.
Mum, Dad called. He said if you dont give up the house hell strip us of parental rights.
What?
He says youre an unfit mother, that youve abandoned the family, and hell have us taken away.
Natalie feels the ground slip away.
Hes bluffing, Margaret says. He wouldnt dare.
Natalie knows he will. Stephen always gets his way, whatever the cost.
That night she cant sleep. She lies awake thinking about the house, about Lauren, about the future. She decides the house isnt worth losing her daughter.
In the morning she calls Stephen.
Ill give the house to you, she says.
He pauses.
Smart move, he finally replies. Ill arrange child support for Lauren.
I dont need your support. Just leave us alone.
She hangs up. Margaret watches, baffled.
What did you do?
I chose. Between the house and my child.
Thats my right!
My right is protecting Lauren, not fighting in courts with you.
Margaret sighs.
Maybe youre right. Its a shame, though. So many years poured into that house.
Its a pity, but Natalie cant mourn. She starts looking for work. At fortyfive, with an old qualification and a decade out of the workforce, shes determined not to give up.
A week later she lands a retail assistant job in a clothing store. The pay is modest, but its something. She endures long shifts, demanding customers, a nitpicky manager, yet each day gets a little easier. She learns, adapts, finds a rhythm.
Well done, Margaret says whenAnd as the sun set over the quiet street, Natalie finally felt peace settle in her heart.
